


A Vicious Cycle

by DecimalDrones



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Memory Loss, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 22:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2084685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DecimalDrones/pseuds/DecimalDrones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter can't remember the life he and Wade supposedly shared together. It's alright as long as he's happy, though, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Vicious Cycle

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing a thing for this website. Neat!

Peter awoke with a pounding headache. His eyelids slowly began to cooperate, though his vision was blurred and disoriented. The soft ceiling light painfully pierced his eyes as though he hadn't seen daylight in ages. How long had he been out? He didn't remember going to sleep. His chest felt heavy and he could barely feel his limbs. He began stirring in a daze, trying to find his bearings. Attempting to flex his hands, he found another cautiously returning his grip.

"Peter-- Petey...? Oh man, you're finally awake!" Sounded a groggy and familiar voice.

"What...?" Peter grunted weakly in return. He willed himself to sit up, which proved to be a mistake. The room began spinning haphazardly, and he forced his eyes shut again. A hand on his chest gently pushed him back into a lying position.

"Whoa, easy, easy! Don't push yourself right away. Just... take a breather for a minute." The voice spoke tenderly.

Once the spinning subsided, Peter soon found his vision returning. He wore only an over-sized t-shirt and an over-sized pair of shorts. The room was dilapidated and diminutive, but again, overtly familiar.  
As his eyes wandered lazily, he eventually settled onto -- "Deadpool? What are you doing here? And-- where IS here? What's going on? I don’t--" He began to panic, his breathing becoming increasingly erratic. "I can't remember anything." His voice escaped in only a pathetic whisper. Deadpool's eyes widened with revelation.

"You don't... remember?"

Suddenly, he leant forward and swiftly pulled Peter into a close and intimate hug.

"Peter..." He mumbled longingly into the crook of his neck. Peter was at first un-reciprocal, his arms lying lifelessly above the covers on the bed, though the familiarity of the act was eerily soothing. He eventually eased into the other man's embrace and savored the feel of his gentle breathing.

Deadpool wore his mask, pulled just above his nose. His sagging tank top and boxer shorts added to his disheveled appearance. He looked as though he hadn’t moved from that spot in ages.

"What happened, Wade?" Peter asked without thinking. He found the content of his own words startling; since when was he on a first name basis with Deadpool?

Deadpool exhaled heavily, as he diffidently pulled out of the hug.

"Wow. Sorry about that, I just... You've been out for so long I was and I was really fricken’ worried. You were going on-- what, four, maybe five days unconscious? You had quite a gash on your noggin, so I let you rest up here. I’ve been watching over you since, because I couldn’t risk losing you…” He trailed off. “More importantly, how're you feeling?"

Peter's mind raced to find an answer, though to no avail. He was bleary eyed and confused, unsure of how to feel or how to act. This was all way too much to take in. He wanted so badly to just fall into another deep sleep. His head began to droop but he shook off the dizziness and forced his mouth to cooperate as he stared into the distance.

"The last thing I remember is... I was running from something-- someone? I was scared, and... I absolutely had to get away, but... I collapsed. After that, I-- ugh!" He began clutching at his head and hissing in pain. The memories were there, but thinking back was proving to be too painful.

"That's enough for now, Pete. You're gonna be alright. I'm sure everything will come back to ya in due time. Don't force it, okay?"

"But—it’s just so frustrating! I can hardly remember the important details about myself, either. My family, my job... It's all hazy. What the hell is wrong with me?" He whimpered.

Peter looked straight into Deadpool’s eyes, and was met with a look of pure compassion and adoration. It terrified him. He was sure he was missing something important here.

"Why?" He croaked. "Why are you-- I mean... What am I to you? Was I living here? Were we... um... an item?" His cheeks grew hot as he considered it. Deadpool smiled softly before responding.

"Well, you've been living with me here for quite a while now, yeah. And to be honest, yeah, I really do dig you. A lot. I just..." He gently took Peter's hands into his own.

"Shit, I'm so happy you're finally awake, Pete. We can talk more over dinner, how's that sound? I'll order a pizza since you're probably starving."

"Yeah... Good. That sounds fine." Peter's head was still swimming with questions, but he knew he was far too tired to face the answers. In dire need of a shower, a shave, and a hot meal, he allowed himself to set his panic aside, and forget to think.

Although he remained mostly bedridden over the next few days, he had steadily become stronger and was able to help Wade around the apartment. Unable to remember how to navigate the extensive New York streets, he remained indoors, with Wade, where he felt safe. Feeling that Peter was well enough to be on his own, Wade resumed working during the days. Doing what, Peter wasn't sure, but he always returned late at night, always ready to welcome Peter with open arms.

They spent their nights talking, watching movies, and exchanging jokes. He wasn't surprised to learn that the two of them had been in somewhat of a domestic partnership for the past several months. Peter felt the two of them were impossibly compatible, and they'd just recently shared their first kiss. The contact made his heart flutter painfully. Wade rarely spoke of their shared past, but Peter didn't mind. He was absolutely smitten. He had found the need to learn about his past of less and less urgency as the days rolled by. They needed each other, and everything was faultless.

Except for the methodical headaches Peter was experiencing. Ever since the day he woke up, the pain had become more frequent and more severe, each time taking longer and longer to subside. He hadn't told Wade, for fear of worrying him. Wade was easily excitable, and so Peter put on a brave face every day.

This time, however, was much worse than the others. He’d been preparing dinner when an attack hit. He doubled over, clutching to the counter-top. His head felt like it was about to split open under the pressure.  
'Wade will be home soon,' he thought. 'And then everything will be alright. Wade... Wade...'

All the while, he was bombarded with images and flashbacks, ranging from oldest to newest. At once, all of his most painful memories flooded back to him. He collapsed onto the cool kitchen tiles and sobbed. Everything went black.

 

The front door clicked open, and Wade stepped inside.

"Petey, I'm back! Didjya miss me? I SO wanted to be home earlier, but duty called, and unfortunately I had to answer," He sing-songs, but his grin soon faltered. Peter's usually running to greet him when he gets back from a job.

Maybe he heard us coming and keeled over from joy, Said White sarcastically.

Or maybe he's waiting for us in the bedroom, Yellow chimed.

Ignoring the boxes, Wade hurriedly stepped into the living room area.

"Peeetey!" He called; raising his mask over his nose half expecting the welcome-home-kiss he’d become so accustomed to. He received no response. He became increasingly worried, which only fueled the voices torment.

I’ll bet he's finally up and left you for someone better.

How long until we realized that this massive web of delusions wouldn't last forever?

Why do we always insist on getting ourself hurt?

Wade bit glaringly at his bottom lip, balling his hands into fists.

"Shut up." He muttered under his breath, descending further into the apartment. "Pete! C'mon out, sweetness! Please, Peter..." He begged, voice cracking. He finally stumbled upon the kitchen where Peter lie crumpled on the floor like a broken toy. Wade's heart stopped as panic coursed through him. The voices had never been quite so noisy.

"Oh shit... Peter!" he bellows. Wade rushes to his side and pulls him to his chest. Peter's head lolled lazily from side to side. Trembling, Wade put two fingers to his neck and checked for a pulse.  
"Thank god-- he's only unconscious." he babbled. The limp man in his arms began to stir.

"Wade..." He started.

"I'm here, Petey. It's alright now."

"Wade, I—oh god... I remember. I remember everything." Peter says coldly. His eyes narrow and he looks directly into Wade's. Seething hatred spread over his features.  
"You... You fucking psychopath!" Peter spat the words like acid as he fought out of the man's grip. "You've been holding me here against my will. That day... I was trying to escape. From YOU." He growled.

"Let's just talk about this, Petey." Wade tried.

"Do NOT call me that!” Peter shrieked. Wade extended a hand to Peter's cheek, but he promptly swatted it away with the strength he’d forgotten he had.

"I can't believe I actually--" Peter brought a trembling hand to his mouth. "I thought that--!" Tears prickled his eyes and blurred his vision. Ironically, he was only just seeing things clearly.

"Peter, wait. I know you're upset, but... These past few days have been perfect, haven't they? You and I have been so fuckin’ happy together. You'd never have given this a chance otherwise. I did what I did because I lov--"

"Shut up. If I've said it once; I've said it a thousand times. Just… shut up, you lunatic." Peter said, his voice full of contempt. The tears were now streaming down his face. Deadpool remained motionless as he knelt on the floor.

"Don't ever let me see you again, Deadpool." Peter stood, and moved towards the front door, avoiding eye-contact with the merc at all costs.

As he reached for the door knob, he felt a sharp crack as an object connected painfully with the back of his skull. A faint gasp escaped his throat. He swayed for a moment, and then fell backwards into the merc's arms, unconscious.

"Looks like I'll have to start locking the doors again."

Deadpool sighed deeply, dragging Peter back towards the bedroom to rest. He laid him gently on the bed and took hold of his hand, kneeling next to him.

"Sorry, Web-head, but I need you more than New York does. I just can’t seem to let this one go... But I got real fuckin' close that time. Pretty soon we'll be able to end this game of cat and mouse." He spoke aloud.

How many times are we going to do this? White asked.

"As many as it takes." Deadpool grunted.

You'd think we'd have gotten the idea by now. Spidey will never want anything to do with us, Yellow avowed.

"He told me he loved me. He KISSED my ugly mug for heaven’s sakes." Deadpool squeezed Peter's hand tightly and planted a soft kiss on his forehead.

"That has to count for something."


End file.
